


Don't Think Twice, It's All Right

by Asgardian_Pirate



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Humor, Language, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Romance, Smut, Tons of music references, Travel, as little angst as possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-11-09 14:59:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asgardian_Pirate/pseuds/Asgardian_Pirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1966, and Dean has been working at the same side-of-the-highway cafe for years. He's seen thousands of faces and has heard hundreds of stories and personal accounts from his customers. Most of them never stop by more than once, but when Dean meets a young, ambitious musician traveling the country, he can't help but hope to see his face again. Funny thing is, is that music has a way of bringing people together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So, this fic idea sort of came out of nowhere when I was listening to Bob Dylan. Yeah.

Dean slipped the tip into his pocket, sending a bright smile towards his customers as they walked away from the counter.   


"Thanks for the visit! Come back soon!" He called out to them as they opened the cafe door, their pleased faces reflecting in the glass panes.  


Dean smiled to himself. He would probably never see them again; that's just a given when you work in a side-of-the-highway cafe in 1966. He'd seen so many faces, heard so many stories, all in between passing "hellos" and "goodbyes". He'd meet wonderful people, but he always had to remind himself that this wouldn't last. These strangers would fade, just like their photos stapled to the cafe walls. Although he was friendly, he remained detached.  


He was cleaning a few coffee mugs, the water from the sink splashing up onto his forearms, when the bell above the door chimed, signaling another customer.  


"Be right with you!" Dean said without looking up, rushing to finish the mugs. He turned the water off, grabbing a towel next to the sink, and began to dry off his hands. As he did so, he glanced up and saw the new customer, a young, dark haired man in a faded grey shirt and jeans, sitting at the counter in front of the kitchen. Several leather bracelets decorated his left wrist, a silver ring doing the same on his right hand.   


Dean stepped down the walkway behind the counter until he was standing in front of the man. The man looked up at him, his startling blue eyes seeming to analyze Dean.  


"How may I help you?"  


"I'd like a coffee, please; black," the man replied, his deep voice resonating through his chapped lips. It took Dean by surprise, but he quickly shook himself, returning to the order.  


"You like it strong, huh?" He attempted at conversation. The man smirked, glancing down at his hands.  


"I usually take cream and sugar, but I need the boost this morning."  


"Oh, yeah? Long drive?"  


"Yeah, you could say that. I've got to make it into St. Louis by this evening."  


Dean whistled. "You realize that you're at least six hours from St. Louis, and it's almost noon?"  


"Yes. I've been driving all night, hence the black coffee."  


Dean chuckled, placing the mug in front of the man, the liquid contents steaming up into the air between them. "Then have as many refills as you'd like. On the house."  


The man smiled at him, and Dean couldn't help but stare down at his mouth. He licked his lips and reverted his eyes back to the man's blues.  


"Thank you, sir."  


Dean laughed, and the man tilted his head as it continued to fill the air. "Please, call me Dean," he corrected, offering his hand. The man smiled once again, shaking it.  


"Castiel."  


The man's hand was strong and rough, a characteristic Dean quickly identified.   


"Are you a musician?" He asked him. Castiel seemed taken aback, his brow furrowing as he released Dean's hand.   


"Is it that obvious?"  


"Your hands are calloused; either you work in hard labor or you play an instrument. I just guessed from there."  


Castiel seemed impressed. "You guessed correctly."  


Castiel then began to tell Dean that he was a traveling, solo musician, touring across the states with nothing but his car and his acoustic guitar. He described his experiences in various cities, cities that Dean had only dreamed about, and soon he was enveloped in the young man's stories. He occasionally broke eye contact to watch Castiel's lips form words filled with far off places, song lyrics, and the random questions directed towards Dean.   


"So, you have a show in St. Louis tonight?"  


"Yes, and - oh, damn." Castiel glanced at the clock on the wall, and quickly fished for his wallet, pulling out too much money. "I'm sorry, but I need to get back on the road. Keep the change."  


Dean fumbled with words, his hands held out in a helpless gesture as he watched Castiel hop off of his bar stool. He didn't know why, but he couldn't let this man just walk out of the cafe and never return, the thought of which made Dean's chest clench.  


"Wait, Cas!" He ran out from around the counter and walked up to Castiel, standing impossibly still next to his seat. Dean stumbled, hitting one of the chairs belonging to a table. He regained his balance, grabbing a napkin from the counter and pen from his pocket. He scratched out something on the napkin and handed it to Cas, a shy smile gracing his face.  


"Here's the number to the cafe. Would you...call, if you're ever out this way again?"  


Dean waited as Castiel stared at the napkin before returning his gaze to Dean, his eyes curious and bright. He took the paper from him, his calloused fingers briefly ghosted across Dean's hand. A small smile played at his lips, and Dean felt himself do the same.  


"Yes, I will."  


"Well, uh...good luck at the show tonight."  


Castiel nodded at him. "Goodbye, Dean."   


Dean turned and watched Castiel head for the door; the door that had seen so many people pass by and never return. His mind scrambled again for words, but none came, and soon, the young man was gone, his words of traveling the road left as whispers in Dean's memory.  


Dean saw many people visit the cafe, always carrying their stories as if they were more pieces of luggage. Dean listened, but soon, those tales were forgotten.   


Dean didn't want to forget Castiel's; he wanted to hear more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't plan on updating this story too soon, because I have so many other fics on my plate right now! But be sure that I will return as soon as I can, because I'm very excited about writing this. Thanks so much for reading, and please remember to comment/give kudos! :-)


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I couldn't help but update this one. I love it too much.

2 Months Later   
  
Dean was busying himself with wiping down the counter, which he had already done at least three times in the past hour. But, hey, the cafe had been incredibly slow that day, as it often had those days where customers were far and few, and he had to pass the time. He liked his job, but when there were no stories to keep him entertained, it quickly became mundane.  


Whatever. It was a decent job, with a decent flow of pay and tips, so he really couldn’t complain. The only thing he could complain about was the fact that the jukebox inside the establishment had shit music taste (mostly). Well, it was really unfair to blame the jukebox. Instead, he complained to the owner of Singer’s Diner, which was, in fact, Bobby Singer.  


“You’d think that a cafe with a name that alludes  _to_ music would have decent taste  _in_ music,” Dean shouted into the kitchen as “King of the Road” sounded through the jukebox. A clang of pots and pans echoed out into the main room, and Dean held back a laugh.  


“It don’t allude to music, it alludes to my name, you idjit,” Bobby shouted back, pushing through the swinging door of the kitchen. He stepped up to the counter to collect a cash pull from Dean’s register.   


“Well, thank God for that, because it would be pretty embarrassing to have a music themed restaurant and only play shit like Roger Miller over there,” Dean poked, enjoying the frustrated spread of red across Bobby’s face.   


“Watch your language, boy,” he warned, but Dean only snorted.  


“Me? Watch  _my_ language? What about you? Always shoutin’ out f-”  


“At least in front of customers,” Bobby revised. Dean huffed a laugh, swinging the towel in his hand.  


“What customers?”  


They both glanced out into the dining area, as barren as a ghost town. Bobby grunted.  


“Well, when we do have customers, watch your damn mouth.”  


“Yes, sir,” Dean answered, raising an eyebrow as Bobby stalked off back towards the kitchen. He chuckled quietly, returning to his repetitive job of wiping invisible circles onto the marble counter. After a few moments, and a few more choruses of Roger Miller, he quickly ran out to his car and grabbed a few records from the back seat. He jogged back inside and headed for the jukebox, where he opened it up and placed his records inside. He quickly punched in the numbers of one of the records, and “The Last Time” by the Stones began to leak through the speakers, instantly relaxing Dean.  


Dean leaned his arm against the jukebox, tapping his foot in beat and quietly singing along with Jagger, unknowingly missing the bell above the front door ring.  


“You’ve got good taste in music.”  


The deep voice made Dean freeze, but not because it startled him, but because of the familiarity laced within the words. Dean spun around to find the young musician he had met a couple of months back standing there, looking exactly the same. Except this time, his guitar was strapped across his back. Dean swallowed hard before continuing, the unexpected spike in heart rate causing heat to spread up his neck.  


“Hey, Castiel,” Dean managed to say, and he’d be damned if the guy remembered his na-  


“Hello, Dean.”  


Well, he was damned.  


“You remember me,” Dean stated the obvious, his hands suddenly feeling shaky. The man smiled at him, and damn, he really should do that more often.  


“Of course. That had been the longest conversation I’d had with a single person in weeks,” he explained. “And in the weeks following,” he added, leaning back against one of the tables in the dining area, his jean-clad legs stretched out before him.   


“How did that show in St. Louis go?” Dean asked. Yeah, he’d remembered that. Did that make him lame?  


“Oh, it went great. Got a good pay for a short gig, but that’s not really what it’s about. The crowd was quite enthusiastic; one of the best shows I’ve ever played.”  
Dean felt himself become sucked into Castiel’s words as they poured from his lips. “How big are your shows? Generally speaking.”  


“Generally? Around fifty to seventy-five people. That St. Louis show was a bit over a hundred, though. It became a bit...wild.”

Dean laughed with him, but his stomach knotted up as he continued. “So, the women, too, huh?” He winked suggestively at Castiel, who tilted his head a fraction. 

“Yes, I suppose. However, I don’t usually involve myself. It’s easier to remain detached as I travel nearly all the time.”

“Well, yeah, of course, I get that. But you never...you know.” 

Castiel frowned. “Does it matter if I do or not?”

Dean’s stomach sank, and he mentally smacked himself, trying to come up with something to redeem himself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to prod. I just figured that you get lonely.” He bit his lip, and Castiel’s expression softened. 

“At times I do. But, like I said-”

“Detached. Right.” Dean felt his hope dwindle. Of course he understood Castiel’s reasoning; he practiced it himself, just in reverse. But he couldn’t shake the disappointment that had crawled into his mind. It was his own fault, anyways. Why would he expect to become friends with Castiel? It was stupid. Childish. And most of all, illogical.

“But, of course, I have a friend now that I can stop by and see when I’m on the road,” Castiel commented, shaking Dean from his trance. Dean licked his lips and nodded, accepting the fact that maybe he just wasn’t Castiel’s type. Type of what, he wasn’t sure.

“That’s great. Who are they? Where do they live?” Dean asked, not at all that curious. But he enjoyed making conversation with Castiel, with his bright eyes and alluring speech, and so he continued.

Castiel laughed, his eyes glancing at the floor before coming back up to meet Dean’s. “Well, he lives somewhere in Kansas, although I’m not sure exactly where.”

“Oh, do you think I would know him?” Dean asked, completely oblivious. Castiel smiled at him, and Dean’s stomach squirmed.

“Yeah, I believe you do.”

“What’s his name?”

“Dean.”

“Oh, I-” Dean stopped mid-sentence, heat rising to his cheeks. He was waiting for someone to plaster a large sign over his head that screamed “idiot”. 

“I’m just going to head back towards my counter and never open my mouth again.” Castiel laughed as Dean began to saunter off, but he was stopped as Castiel grabbed his arm, pulling him closer towards himself. Dean’s heart sped up again as he breathed in the scent of old books and the ocean, which actually confused him because how had Cas been at the ocean in the middle of Kansas?

And when had he started calling him Cas?

“I’ll let it slide this time,” Castiel promised, and Dean snorted.

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Dean leaned back against the table next to Castiel, their shoulders touching. They stood there for a minute, a comfortable silence filling between them as The Who’s “Out In the Street” resonated through the jukebox speakers. Castiel began to hum with the tune, his head nodding slightly as the music continued. Dean smiled inwardly as he glanced at the man, helpless endearment filling his chest.

As the music played, they talked about various artists and concerts they longed to attend in the future. Dean commented that “I’ll never be able to leave this place”, to which Castiel replied “I’ll come and pick you up myself”. Topics changed from music, to books (which Cas was particularly passionate about - in fact, he said he practically kept a library in the back of his van), to cars, and then back to music, where, Dean thanked a higher a power, he and Cas had similar tastes.

“Wait a minute,” Castiel said suddenly, rushing over towards the jukebox. He looked over it hopelessly. “Is there any way to stop this?”

“I can turn the volume down,” Dean replied, coming over to stand beside him. He adjusted the volume until they could barely hear it unless they put their ears next to the speakers. Castiel then grabbed Dean’s arm and brought him to one of the tables, ushering him to sit down in a chair. 

Castiel stood before him, fidgeting with his fingers, and Dean raised an eyebrow.

“You alright?” Cas bit his lip, a gesture that made his face seem five years younger.

“Look, I never do this, but....”

“Spit it out, Cas.”

“Do you mind listening to a song for me? I’ve been practicing it for a while, and it’s a cover, so I really don’t want it to sound subpar coming from my guitar.”

“Sure,” Dean agreed, anticipation growing in his gut as he watched Cas slide the guitar around from his back to his front. “What band?”

Castiel hesitated. “The Beatles.”

Dean smiled, rubbing his hands together. “Well, alright! Good. I have a soft spot for them, so play your best. No pressure.”

Cas pulled a face, but settled his fingers for the first chord. “Thanks.” He strummed a few strings, delving into his stage persona, who seemed too serious in comparison to the real Cas. At least to Dean he was. “You might have heard of this next song. It’s called ‘From Me to You’. Here we go.”

Cas dived straight into the song, his passion clear with every strum of the guitar and every note seeming to sigh from his lips, his voice rich and soft. As Dean watched him play, he felt his chest constrict. With nearly every break between lines, Cas would lick his lips. At first, he kept his eyes on the walls, floor, and tables, but as the song went on, Cas directed his stare at Dean, smiling as he finished that last few measurements. Once it was over, Cas continued to smile, and Dean felt the familiar tug in his chest. Oh man, was he in trouble.

“So?” Castiel questioned anxiously, biting his lip again. “What did you think?”

“You’re really interested in my opinion? I’m flattered,” Dean joked, earning a glare. “Alright, alright. It was really good, Cas. I mean  _really_ good. How long have you been doing this whole traveling music thing?”

Castiel seemed to beam at Dean’s words, which made his chest tug again. “A couple of years. And...thank you, Dean. Feedback is always appreciated.”

“Oh, so you’re only hanging around for my feedback? I see how it is.”

“Of course not. I’m hanging around because of you.” Dean’s heart skipped a beat as Cas’ cheeks turned a light shade of pink, quickly looking away as he slid his guitar onto his back.

“So...you’re gonna call, right? While you’re on the road?” Dean asked tentatively.  Cas looked back up to him, that small smile returning to his face.

“Of course.” He glanced up at the clock on the wall, the same one that sent him on his way last time (well, it was the only one in the room, but whatever - Dean didn’t like it when Cas checked it). “Better make me a coffee to go; I gotta make a show in Perry.”

“Oklahoma? Do you ever stop and rest?” Dean asked, his good mood already diminishing as he fixed Castiel’s coffee behind the counter. 

“Do you ever stop asking questions?” Cas teased, winking at him. “I have a break in my tour in a couple of weeks. I’ll stop by then and  rest , okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean mumbled, placing the lid on the coffee cup. He moved around the counter and stepped up to Cas, wondering why he had done so when he could have just handed it to the guy. But Cas smiled and slowly took it from Dean’s hand, his fingers ghosting across it like it had the first time they met. Dean swallowed, suddenly wanting those hands to become more familiar. As if Cas could read his mind, he slowly reached around Dean and hugged him, his free hand pressing gently on Dean’s back. Dean stood stock still, and he could feel Cas tense up and begin to back off. Fearing he thought it was unwanted, Dean returned the hug, feeling Cas’ fit chest through his shirt. Again, he ignored his stomach squirming, patting Cas’ back as the hug ended. Cas stared at him, his eyes far too blue, and Dean realized how close they still were to each other.

“I guess I’ll see you around,” Dean said quietly. Cas smiled and nodded, his hand resting on Dean’s shoulder.

“Goodbye, Dean.”

As he watched Castiel leave the diner, the guitar bouncing with his every step, Dean felt the tug in his chest and sighed resignedly. Yeah, sometimes there was the occasional customer who returned here after a period of time, but the chances of Castiel returning more than once? Unlikely. Improbable.

Hopefully good.

“Goodbye...Cas.” Dean shook his head, walking over to the jukebox. He skimmed through the pages and found the record he wanted, punching in the number of a song before he returned to the counter. As “From Me to You” sounded throughout the diner, Dean began to finish wiping the counter, falling back into his routine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I actually like Roger Miller; I just have a feeling Dean wouldn't, haha.
> 
> Thank you for reading! More to come very soon. Please leave comment/kudos; they're great encouragement for me. :-)
> 
> Listen to this chapter's music:  
> \- "King Of The Road" by Roger Miller: http://youtu.be/OmOe27SJ3Yc  
> \- "The Last Time" by The Rolling Stones: http://youtu.be/JZ32lL4R970  
> \- "Out In the Street" by The Who: http://youtu.be/RIPjfnAC2dM  
> \- "From Me to You" by The Beatles: http://youtu.be/gatYuXwNOdY


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so attached to this story. I can't wait to give you guys more!

Dean hadn’t really noticed that Bobby had been watching him more frequently than normal, but then again, he was busy with filling out a couple of tables’ orders. His mind was pretty much focused on not tripping over the legs of the chairs crowding the diner floor and spilling food and soda everywhere. It might have happened a few times in the past.  


Dean did notice, however, when he was refilling a sweet, elderly lady’s iced tea. After her cup was full, she reached up and held onto Dean’s hand, patting it affectionately.   


“You are such a kind young man,” she said, smiling up at him. Dean returned the smile and bowed his head, gently squeezing her hand.   


“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Any young woman would certainly be lucky to have you.”

Dean blinked a few times before replying. “Oh, well, th-”

“Ah, there already is someone, isn’t there? I can tell by the look in your eye.” Dean’s heart skipped a beat, ignoring the flashes of Cas’ smile buzzing through his memory. The lady beamed up at him, waiting for a response. Dean swallowed.

“Um...not really, no.”

The lady frowned. “No?”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line as he glanced out the window, staring at the trees lining the highway. 

“Well, there might be. But I’m not really...sure...”

“Sure about what, dear?”

“If...” Dean hesitated. Castiel had only been gone a few days, yet he couldn’t get him out of his mind. If Dean saw anything with a certain shade of blue, he’d think of Cas’ eyes. Anytime The Beatles came on the jukebox or radio, he’d think of Cas playing guitar. It honestly surprised him. Not the fact that Cas was a guy; Dean had come to terms with his sexuality (which was pretty fluid) years ago. It was the fact that Castiel had slipped through so easily. Hell, he didn’t even know if Cas was interested in guys, and yet here he was, struck with, what? Some sappy puppy love you’d find on television?

“I’m not sure if...they...are interested. I’m not sure if I should....pursue it, I guess?”

The lady nodded her understanding, patting his hand once more before releasing it. “Would you like some honesty, son?” 

Dean nodded slightly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You like this person?”

Dean took a deep breath. “Uh, yeah. I do.” There was no denying that.

“Then why don’t you try? You won’t know unless you do.” Dean stood there, letting the statement sink in, and the lady raised her eyebrow. A small smile graced his face, and he nodded, leaving the table with a slight boost in confidence. As he reached the counter, he looked up at saw Bobby staring at him from the kitchen window, his face scrunched like when he was thinking hard and couldn’t figure something out. Dean’s smile faltered, and he cleared his throat as he rounded the corner to stand behind the counter. He stepped up to the window, Bobby’s face now stoic. They stood there in silence for a few moments, Bobby decidedly watching the customers instead of looking at Dean.

“Uh, Bobby?”

“Yeah?”

“You alright? You seem a bit...spacey.”

Bobby raised his eyebrow and met Dean’s gaze, his mouth slanted in that “dumbass, you must be kidding me” way. Bobby had been a family friend long enough for Dean to recognize his different mannerisms.

“ _I_ seem spacey?”

“Uh, that’s what I said,” Dean replied, a chuckle escaping his lips before it died off as Bobby continued to stare him down.

“You better look in the mirror, smartass.” Dean frowned. He shifted his weight so that he was leaning on the back counter, propping himself up by his elbow.

“What do mean?”

Bobby shook his head, slinging his hand towel over his shoulder. Before returning to the back of the kitchen, he placed a plate for one of the table’s orders on the window. 

“Wait, Bobby,” Dean called out. Bobby turned halfway around, waiting.

“If you’re as dumb as I think you are, then you’re probably oblivious to the whole situation,” he answered, giving a physical huff before walking away.

Confusion grew in Dean’s mind, and as he tried to depict Bobby’s words, he absentmindedly grabbed the plate and walked it to the correct table. As he passed the booths, a hand grabbing his arm broke his reverie. The hand drug him into the booth, and as he plopped down, he was met with blue-green eyes and a stupid grin.

“You need to wake up, dude. Bobby’s going to kick your ass if you start slacking.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it.” Dean pursed his lips. “What are you doing here, Sammy?”

“What? I can’t check up on my big brother?” Sam asked, the same stupid grin on his face. Dean frowned, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the booth.

“No.”

Sam laughed, looking out across the diner. “I just...” He stopped mid-sentence to laugh again, the grin only getting wider.

“If you’ve got something to say, then say it. Don’t waste my time,” Dean muttered. Sam shook his head, returning his gaze back to Dean. 

“Just relax, okay? I came here to ask you something. That’s all.”

“What, did you lose all your money buying drugs? Or was it women? Oh no, wait, it’s all about  _free_ love, right?” Sam put on his bitchface.

“I’m not a hippie.”

“Yeah, whatever, dude,” Dean commented, cracking his knuckles. Sam sucked in his bottom lip, which only meant trouble, because he was  _thinking_ .

“How are you, Dean?”

Dean frowned at him, holding up his hands. “What? You came out here to ask me  _that_ ?”

“Well, we don’t get to see each much, ever since mom and dad-”

“Sam.” Dean leaned across the table. A few questions buzzed through his mind, but he decided on another to keep their conversation from becoming too...touchy-feely. “You can come visit me anytime, alright?” Sam nodded, and Dean leaned back again. “How are they, by the way?”

“Oh, I saw them last week. The graveyard is being kept in good condition.”

“Good.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds before the grin returned on Sam’s face. Dean rolled his eyes, his fingers tapping impatiently on the table.

“Come on, Sam. I know you didn’t come here just for that.”

“No, I really do want to know how you are,” Sam claimed, the annoying smile still stuck in place.

“Sure. Please don’t tell me you’ve come here to tell me that city life isn’t all that its cracked up to be, and that you need a place to stay. Because no. I need my own pad.”

“Pad, Dean?” Sam asked, eyebrow raised. What was it with everyone and their attitudes today?

“Apartment. Whatever. So?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m here about  _you_ . How hard is that to understand?” Sam laughed to himself again, and Dean sighed.

“I’m good. Real good. Works going well, the car’s running great, and it’s almost Fall.” Dean smiled this time, and Sam smirked.

“Your favorite time of year?”

“My favorite time of year, that’s right. Bonfires, excuses to get closer to your drive-in date, and pumpkin pie. God, am I looking forward to pie...” Dean sat there, staring off dreamily, and that’s when Sam decided to strike.

“What about relationships?”

Dean’s head snapped back, his brow furrowing in suspicion. “What do you mean?”

“Uhhh...”

“Dude, you don’t just throw around the R-word. What are you talking about? Are you asking if I’m in one?”

Sam’s face scrunched in nervous and complete bullshit contemplation, his voice going whiney. “Well, yeah, actually. I am.”

“What brings you to the conclusion that I am in one?”

“Why are you being so defensive? Maybe I’m just trying to make small talk. You’re being a little dramatic, which can only mean you’re probably hiding something.”

“Don’t do that psychoanalysis crap with me, Sammy.”

“Well, are you?”

Dean inhaled slowly, his heart beating a little faster in his chest. Why was he nervous? He wasn’t  _in_ a relationship with Cas. So saying no would be telling Sammy the truth. But if he asked if there was anyone he was interested in, wel-

“Dean.”

“Hmm?”

“You spaced out.”

“Well, I’m tired. I actually work.”

“Hey, I have a job.”

Dean snorted. Sam sighed, tapping the table lightly.

“Look, enough with the evading. I know.”

“Know what?”   


“About...Castiel.”

Dean’s stomach plummeted. “How...who....”   


“I don’t know what the big deal is, Dean. I mean, I don’t care if you have a boyfriend. If you’re happy, then-”   


“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down there, skippy. Cas isn’t my boyfriend,” Dean correct, feeling a bit dizzy. What the hell?   


“Dean. It’s fine, I jus-”   


“Sam, I’m telling you. Cas is not my boyfriend. He’s just a friend. He comes by sometimes while he tours for shows. He’s a musician,” Dean explained, his heart beating in his stomach. Sam seemed confused, his eyebrows furrowing as he stared at the table. “Sammy, who told you that? How do you even know about Cas?”   


“No one. No one told me, Dean,” Sam said, looking back up at him. Dean’s hands shot out in exasperation.   


“Then what the hell? You clairvoyant or something? Because, if you are, then your signal is getting interference.”   


Sam huffed, leaning forward. “No, I mean, I sort of came to the conclusion when I heard him on the radio.”   


“He was on the radio?”   


“Yeah, it was live from one of his shows, trying to support the bar or something. He said how the next song was for a good friend that he hoped to see soon.”   


“And?” Dean urged, his stomach knotting. Sam starting smiling again.   


“And then he said that it went out to Dean Winchester in Junction City, Kansas. Then he starting playing ‘From Me to You’ by The Beatles. So, yeah, I thought he was your boyfriend or something, because, I mean, have you listened to those lyrics?”   


Dean started laughing, trying to hold back the flush that was spreading over his cheeks. Cas dedicated the song to him? And, well, yeah, those lyrics were kind of...yeah.   


“Oh man, no. No. He played that song for me one time he was in here, asking how it sounded because he was intimidated that it was a Beatles song. I guess he thought that if I heard it, I would get a kick out of it,” Dean explained, helpless against the grin spreading across his face. Sam seemed amused as he leaned over the table.   


“Oh, okay. That explains it.”   


“Yeah.”   


“But, uh.” Sam paused to laugh. “Are you sure he wasn’t trying to _tell_ you something?”  


“What?” Dean could feel the heat rising up his back. “That he has a gay crush on me?”   


“Maybe. I wouldn’t put the idea down just yet, Dean.”   


“Why do you say that?”   


“Because, who knows? Maybe this...friendship of yours could turn into something more. And judging by the way you’re grinning, I’d say you might be the one with the gay crush.”   


Dean’s jaw dropped. His stomach squirmed as he adjusted himself in the booth seat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   


“Could you be more obvious? Look, Dean, just, wait and see, okay? You’ll never know unless you try.”   


Dean raised his eyebrows. “Huh.”   


“What?”   


“You’re the second person to tell me that today.” Sam frowned, but Dean held up his hand. “No more. We’re done. I’ll, uh...call you, if there are any...” Dean rolled his hands to try to convey his thought to Sam, who evidently picked it up.   


“Developments?”   


“Sure.”   


“Alright.” Sam fiddled with his glass of Coke when an idea sprung into Dean’s head.   


“So, Sammy...” He waited for Sam to look at him, then he waggled his eyebrows. “How about you? Any relationships? Or gay crushes, since we’re on the subject.”   
When Sam’s cheeks tinted, Dean barked out his laughter, causing at least a couple of heads to turn in the diner.    


“Spit it out.”   


“That can be for another time, Dean. Besides, it’s not me who has the gay crush...”   


“Ah, so someone’s chasing  _your_ tail. Who?”  


“Next time, Dean.” 

Dean smirked, but he didn’t push the issue. They talked about various other topics, somehow always reverted back to the topic of gay crushes, of all things, and everytime, Sam would blush. Dean vowed that he would make his brother spill his guts eventually. Dean occasionally had to leave the booth to serve the patrons, but eventually returned to the booth to continue the conversation. Too soon, Sam had to hit the road. They said their goodbyes, Sam said he would visit again in about a week, and then he was gone.

He walked back to his spot behind the counter, the diner only holding a couple of guests as the sun’s setting light streamed through the windows. If Dean turned on the radio that night to possibly catch a part of one of Cas’ shows, he’d simply say that he was just waiting on some good tunes to help him pass the time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please comment/give kudos, and share if you'd like. :-)


	4. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience! I will update when I can. I hope you enjoy! :-)

“Make sure you clean them back booths. I don’t want to leave sticky tabletops for the morning crowd.”  


“Aye, aye, Captain,” Dean replied as Bobby headed back into the kitchen. He twisted through the tables scattering the diner floor, occasionally stopping to rearrange a misplaced chair or two. Wet rag in hand, Dean bent over the table of one of the booths to wipe it down, flipping the rag over to clean down the seats. As he moved to the next booth, he heard the faint bell from the front door ring, and sighed.  


“Sorry, but we’re closed,” he called, his voice muffled by the booth seats on either side of his bent form. “We open at six in the morning, though, if you’re still around.”

“I’ve actually already had a cup of coffee, so I believe I’m good to go.” Dean’s hands froze. “I just thought I’d visit.”

Dean stood up, bringing his gaze towards the door, his heart jumping. “Cas.”  


A smile crept onto the young man’s face, and Dean’s body was moving before he even registered that Cas had moved forward as well. They met about half-way, and Dean’s eyes scanned across and down Cas’ figure, admiring how his faded jeans hugged his hips, or how the sleeves of his button-up shirt were rolled up, revealing strong forearms and slender wrists. Cas cleared his throat, and Dean looked back up at him, all amused blue eyes and unkempt dark hair. Then, as it usually goes, Dean stuttered, realizing that he was still holding the wet rag. The dirtied water ran in rivulets down his fingers and dripped onto his boots and the floor.  


“Uh, right, let me just clean up real quick,” he mumbled, half laughing, and Cas joined him, chuckling as Dean attempted to halt the water from sliding down his forearms. “Sorry, man, I didn’t exp-”  


“Dean, I think I’m gonna-” Bobby came out from the kitchen, stopping as they all stared at each other, the only sound being the slight squeak of the doors swinging behind him, until they themselves halted.  


“Bobby.” Dean, stupidly, clenched the towel, sending more water to the floor. “This is Cas.”  


Bobby slowly walked towards them, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Right.” He glanced over Cas’ form, and Cas shifted fractionally, his face on the edge between friendly and intimidated. “I’m Bobby.”

Cas took Bobby’s offered hand, shaking it.  


“So I’ve heard. Dean has...told me about you.”  


“Oh, yeah? What’d he say?”  


“Only good things,” Dean commented, swallowing. Bobby huffed.  


“Yeah. Sure.”  


“No matter what Dean has said, I hold you and your establishment in high regards. You run a good business here.”  


“That’s some fancy talk you’re spitting out there for my diner.”  


“I like your coffee.”  


Dean blinked as Bobby laughed, actually _laughed_ , God help him. Dean sighed in relief as he felt the tension in the air melt away. He glanced at Cas, and his stomach squirmed at how, when he laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly, and the blues seemed just a bit brighter.

“Dean, can I talk to you a minute?” Bobby asked, nodding towards the kitchen. Dean swallowed after a strangled “sure” escaped his throat, and he followed Bobby through the swinging doors, leaving Cas in the middles of the diner.

“Look, Dean, I’m about to leave for the night, and I want you to close up,” he said once they were in the kitchen. “Don’t go doin’ anything stupid, alright?” Dean frowned, turning to rinse out the rag and wash his hands in the large sink.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy. I’m sure if I hadn’t walked out when I did, you probably would’ve jumped that boy’s bones.”

Dean turned suddenly, smacking his knuckles against the sink. He flicked his hand out to disperse the pain, his mouth opening in protest, but Bobby held up his own hand.

“Don’t. You’ve been googly-eyed over him ever since he returned the first time.” Bobby grabbed his jacket from the coat hanger behind the door, giving Dean a look as he slid it on.

“I’m not a kid, Bobby. I know how to control myself. Besides, me and Cas aren’t-”

“You’re twenty-one, Dean. You don’t know the meaning of self control when it comes to...” He trailed off, finishing his point by nodding out to the diner and the young man who waited beyond the doors. Dean, determined to make his own point, stood in front of Bobby, blocking his way.

“Bobby. Cas and I aren’t together...in any sense of the word.”

“Well, then you better tell him that, because it seemed to me like he wanted to jump _your_ bones, too.” Bobby patted Dean’s shoulder as he stood there, mouth agape. “Goodnight.”

After Bobby passed by him and walked through the kitchen doors, Dean slowly turned to follow him. He watched as Bobby said his goodbyes to Cas and walked out of the diner, the door quietly shutting behind him.

Dean inhaled, his heart beating faster as the realization that this was the first time he and Cas were truly alone set in.

“So,” he began, stepping up in front of Cas. “How have you been? How’s the tour coming?”

“It went really well. I had a blast.”

“Went?”

“Yes, it’s over, for the time being. I won’t have another one until I write and record new music.”

“Oh?” Dean leaned back against the same table Cas was leaning on, their shoulders occasionally brushing together. “How long will that take?”

“Depends on how easily the music comes to me. Why, are you trying to get rid of me already?”

Dean turned to face Cas, and the guy was just smiling at him, easy and bright. Dean smiled in return, going out on a limb by placing an arm around Cas’ shoulders. “Of course not.”

Cas continued to smile at him, finally breaking away to glance out of the diner’s windows. “So...”

“So?”

“So, you’re done for the night? Do you have to work tomorrow?”

“Yep, and no, I actually have the day off,” Dean replied, smirking as he remembered. “Sweet.”

“Would you like to go get some drinks? I think I know of a-”

“Dude, yes, let’s go,” Dean said, wincing internally at how enthusiastic he sounded. “I, uh...” He cleared his throat, opting for a deeper octave. “I know a place in the city. It’s run by some friends, so I can get us a good deal.” He stood up and away from the table, gesturing towards the parking lot. “Come on. You can follow me there.”

\---

“What can I get you and your friend, Dean?”

“Hey, Ellen. Just a beer for me.” They walked up to the bar through a gaggle of noisy, tipsy people, claiming a couple of seats before they were taken. Ellen slid a beer towards Dean, who grabbed it and uncapped it in one swift motion.

“What about you, sweetheart?” Ellen asked Cas, whose eyes were scanning the bottle collection behind her.

“I’ll have a two shots of whiskey, please. Do you have Carsebridge?”

Ellen’s eyebrows shot up and Dean nearly choked on his beer.  


“Sure thing,” Ellen said, turning to fix the drinks.  


“Getting started on the night early, Cas?” Dean asked him, leaning over in his chair. Cas turned his head, a smirk on his lips, and Dean didn’t miss the glint in his eyes.  


“My tour didn’t allow the luxury to drink and sleep off the consequences the next day. But now, I’m on vacation, so to speak,” he began, taking one of the shots and downing it. Dean’s heart beat unevenly. “So, I’m going to enjoy it. Don’t worry, though. These will be the only shots for the evening. I have more stashed away for later.”  


A shiver crawled down Dean’s spine at how Cas said “later”, and so he nursed at his beer, not trusting his own voice to comment.  


“How old are you, son?” Ellen asked, leaning her elbows on the bar. Dean watched Cas’ throat move as he downed the second shot, licking his lips to capture any escaped liquid once he’d finished.  


“Twenty-three.”  


“And you play music on the road? How is that?”  


“I do, and it’s great. I’m partnered with an independent label, so I have a lot of artistic freedom. Playing for crowds is a perk, in my opinion.”  


“If you don’t mind me asking, how much does it pay? I’ve heard independent labels don’t give much.”  


“I make...enough. That’s not what’s important, anyways. As long as my music is credited and I’m allowed to share it with people, I’m happy. It makes me even happier when people tell me they can relate or connect to my music; if my words and my melodies can reach complete strangers...that’s it. That makes it for me.”  


Dean observed how Cas’ face brightened as he spoke, his hands illustrative in their gesturing. In that moment, he saw the same passion as when Cas played his guitar, and Dean had the sudden urge to throw the man against the bar and kiss him senseless.  


Instead, he continued to drain his beer. At this rate, he’d need another soon.  


“If you’re interested, you should come up here and play for me sometime. Maybe I can schedule you for a night during the weekend?”  


Cas nodded enthusiastically, briefly glancing at Dean. “I’d love to.”  


“Does this mean you’ll be in town for a while?” Dean asked, hopeful. Cas smiled at him, and his damn stomach flipped again.  


“Yeah, I suppose I will be.”  


Dean looked at Cas for probably too long, but he couldn’t help the lightness in his chest or the smile on his lips, because he would finally have the chance to get to know Cas; really know him. A part of him held up a red flag, warning him of the possibility of becoming attached, but hell, it was already too late for that.  


“Excuse me, boys,” Ellen said, walking away to serve other customers at the end of the bar. Cas turned fully in his chair to face Dean, a smile still on his face. Dean raised an eyebrow, finishing off his beer.  


“Did those shots really get to you? Maybe you’ll need a ride-”  


“Dean,” Cas started, the mischievous glint returning in his eyes. “I can hold my liqour.”  


Damn it.  


“Uh, yeah...” It was suddenly much hotter in the bar. “So, where are you staying?” Dean asked quickly, wanting a change of subject. Cas leaned back in his chair, fingers fidgeting with an empty shot glass.  


“Some hotel down the street from here. A bit pricey, but I’ll manage for a while.”  


The words left Dean’s mouth without hesitation or permission, the bastards.  


“You can stay at my place, if you want.”  


Cas’ eyebrow rose slowly, and Dean felt heat rush to his cheeks.  


“I, uh, have a pull out couch, and you can stay for free. You’d just have to help with groceries and maybe a bit of the water bill, but...” Dean’s grip tightened on his empty beer bottle. “The offer is there, if you want to...take it.”  


Silence filled the space between them, the noise of the crowd muffled to Dean’s ears. A smile steadily grew on Cas’ face before he nodded.  


“Alright, I’ll take it. But I think we should get to know each other a bit better first. Should we go, and have some more drinks over it?”  


Dean ignored the butterfly feeling his gut, laying some cash down on the bar for Ellen. “Yeah, sounds good.” He felt stupid, but he stood anyways and held out his hand. “Dean Winchester, but you already knew that.”  


Cas took his hand and shook it, allowing his fingers to trail down Dean’s palm as he released it. Dean definitely ignored the sensation that gave him.  


“Castiel Collins. But you didn’t know that...at least, one hundred percent.”  


“Well, now I do. How about on the way back I grab us some burgers? I know this great joint that stays open late.”  


“Sounds like a plan.”

\---

Turned out that Cas came from Maryland and a big, religious family, with, as he put it, “too much money stuck up their asses.” He mentioned that one of his brothers actually lived out here in Kansas, and he’s one of the only family members he still speaks with. When Dean put out there that he could maybe meet him, Cas dismissed it quickly.  


“He’s a bit...eccentric.”  


Dean asked if his brother was a hippie. Cas didn’t answer.  


With each shot of Cas’ own stash of whiskey, Dean found himself not only scooting closer and closer to him on his couch in his apartment, but spilling out some personal information; like the fact that both of their parents died years ago in a car accident, and how he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to help Sam get all the way through college in Kansas City. It bothered him that his tongue had loosened so much around Cas, but the man seemed attentive and open, and that made Dean relax.  


With a sigh, he sunk back into the cushions of the couch, his eyes suddenly widening as Cas poured himself another shot.  


“Dude. How...how many is that?”  


“It’s my last one, I swear,” Cas laughed, throwing his head back to swallow the liquor. Dean dug his fingers into the material of the couch to resist reaching up and touching Cas’ neck.  


“Man...we...we should have a drinking contest. You and me,” Dean said, sitting up and sloppily gesturing between them with his finger. Cas grinned, and Dean’s heart flipped as he leaned forward and whispered in his ear: “You’re on.”  


Dean needed to leave. Now. Cas’ hot breath ghosted down his neck, and a fire sank lower and lower in Dean. He had to go to bed before he fucked anything up.  


“Uhh, I think...I need to go to bed...” Cas looked a bit confused as Dean tried to get up from the couch, failing until he gripped onto the armrest and hoisted himself up. “It...it just folds out, like...ohhhhhh-”  


Maybe it was the combination of standing up too quickly, or all the alcohol coursing through his veins, but Dean collapsed back onto the couch, half of his body landing on Cas. Dean felt the deep rumble of Cas’ laughter from behind him, and as he turned around to tell him off, that this wasn’t that funny, Cas’ hand was on the back of his head, his fingertips tracing circles. Dean licked his lips.  


Cas followed the action with his eyes, imitating it, slower, his lips remaining parted, open, inviting. Dean hesitated, his heart pounding in his ears.  


“Maybe...” Cas whispered, his mouth moving towards Dean’s jaw. Dean gasped as his warm, wet lips gently kissed along the bone, coaxing and sensuous. A wave of pleasure rolled down Dean’s spine, and he pressed closer into Cas’ body. “Maybe you could just stay here...”  


“Cas...” Dean began, his own mouth moving to Cas’ neck. When he nipped at the skin there, a quiet moan escaped Cas’ mouth, and more pleasure shot down Dean’s back, making him shiver. Before he could finished his sentence, Castiel’s whiskey stained lips found his, moving slow, teasing and testing. Heat flushed across Dean’s back, and he moaned, his hand sliding up to grasp onto Cas’ hair, pressing his mouth harder against his. An urgency was building inside him, and as Cas’ hand traveled down Dean’s shirt before slipping inside to caress the skin, Dean bit at Cas’ bottom lip, his own hands reaching to unbutton the man’s shirt.  


Cas smiled into Dean’s mouth, his warm breath a quick metronome against his swollen lips, and although his body craved for more, craved to explore this man and discover what made his heart quicken or his body tremble, Dean’s gut instinct held up a big red sign.  


“Cas, wait...stop,” he managed to say between Cas’ intoxicating kisses, a whole different kind of inebriation than that of the liquor burning in his gut. “Not...not now. Not while...we’re like this...”  


Castiel was quiet, the sound of his breathing fading until he sat back, nodding.  


“You’re right. I’m sorry.”  


“Don’t apologize,” Dean said, smiling lopsidedly. That earned a grin from Cas that sent his stomach squirming again. Dean stared at him, with cheeks flushed and lips ruddy, his hair in even more disarray than before, if that were possible. But as he continued to look, his vision began to blur, bend, and duplicate. Yeah, it was time for bed.  


“I wonder if I can make it to...”

Dean didn’t finish his sentence, passing out into Cas’ lap before the sound of his snores filled the apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I will be able to update soon. Thank you for reading! Please leave comments/give kudos. ^u^


	5. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm glad I could finally update! And if you read my other fics, don't worry; those will be updated soon, I promise! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy. Ehehehehe....

Dean woke to complete darkness, the smell of coffee, and a splitting headache. As the disorientation wore off, he realized that a blanket was draped over his head, making it uncomfortably stuffy beneath the fleece-like material. He groaned and stretched under the blanket before lifting it up over his head, his sensory input immediately maximizing as the sounds, smells, and lights of his small apartment hit him at once.  


“Damn it, why didn’t I think that _through_?” He groaned, ducking his head back under the blanket. He heard faint footsteps crossing the hardwood floors, and he froze, memories from the night before crashing onto him.  


A deep chuckle answered. “Because you have a hangover, and those never allow you to think clearly.” Dean’s momentary panic faded, and he huffed at the amusement in Cas’ voice. He rubbed face against the rough material of the couch mattress before going limp. He could just stay here. Maybe he would.  


“I made some coffee, if you’d like some.”  


“Mmm.”  


Dean heard Cas chuckle once more before moving into the kitchen to sift through the cabinets for a mug. As he waited for a steaming cup of caffeine goodness, Dean caught the distinct vocals of Wilson Pickett pour quietly from his turntable in the corner of the living room. He peeked one eye out from under his blanket to look at it, before turning his gaze toward the kitchen. He waited until Cas came out, sleep pants clung to his hips, his shirt allowing a glimpse of skin beneath his navel. Dean swallowed, trying to fight the urge to squirm as he watched those swaying hips approach.  


“Here you go.” Cas held out the mug, so he sat up, keeping the blanket over his head, and reached for it. As he carefully brought it to his chest, he inhaled and sighed in contentment. “I kept it black. It’s probably not as good as your cup of diner coffee, but-”  


“It isn’t,” Dean commented, winking at the man from beneath the blanket-made-cloak. “But it’s still good. Thanks.”  


Cas smiled, and Dean wanted to pull him down inside the blanket with him. He sipped at the coffee again, knowing full and well that a conversation needed to be had between them, but as the liquid burned down his throat and his headache lightened, he decided that he would let Cas bring it up.  


Cas sat down on the mattress next to Dean, and Dean nudged him with his knee, nodding towards the turntable. “That yours?”  


“Oh, the record? Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I commend your music selection, but I was just in a Pickett mood.”  


“You carry it around with you?” Dean snickered, blowing into his cup.  


“No, I grabbed it from my van.”  


“But you rode home with me.”  


Cas shrugged, sipping at his own cup. “I picked my van up from the bar.” Dean frowned and set his cup onto the small table next to the couch.  


“What time is it?”  


“Almost one in the afternoon.”  


“Ah, man...” Dean groaned, the blanket slowly sliding off of his head. Cas gently ruffled his hair, making him look up.  


“Don’t worry. It’s your day off, remember?”  


Dean nodded, slowly climbing off of the mattress, Cas joining him to help fold it up. Cas then headed to the kitchen to rinse out their mugs, sharp hips still swaying, and Dean scrambled to the bathroom to brush his teeth and take a shower. Once the hot water washed most of the fatigue and kinks away, Dean quickly stepped out and dried, only to remember that he hadn’t grabbed any clothes.  


“Of course.” He huffed and wrapped his towel tight around his waist, making sure it was secure before opening the bathroom door. Steam rolled out from behind him as he peeked his head out from the door, sprinting to his bedroom straight across the hall in a couple bounding leaps. As he shut the door behind him, he was assaulted with the scent of old books and the ocean.  


“Cas stayed in my room,” he mumbled, slowly stepping towards his bed. He imagined Cas tangled up in his sheets, his naked form only hidden by the thin fabric draped across his hips. God, those _hips_. Dean wanted to run his hands, lips, tongue over every dip and curve...  


Dean shook himself, a familiar heat germing in his gut. He rummaged through his entire room in search for some fresh clothes, but through his closet, drawers, and disaster zone of a floor, he found only dirty ones in his wake.  


“I just want a damn shirt,” he moaned, finally finding a clean pair of underwear and sliding them on, discarding the towel onto his bed. “Well, there’s these. Oh, shit...”  


He smacked his forehead before rubbing his face, his shoulders slumping in defeat. The fact that he had just done laundry explained the lack of clean clothes, but of course he had to have left them in living room instead of bringing them back into his room.  


He could hear Bobby saying “dumbass” now.  


“Okay.” He stopped at his door, hand on the doorknob, and exhaled. He strode out into and down the hallway, Pickett still playing away from his turntable. Cas was standing near it, his back turned toward him, and Dean thought that if he was quiet enough, maybe he could-  


“Hey, do you still have that Stones record that we...”  


Dean froze, his spine tingling as Cas’ eyes raked over his nearly naked body. He tried to laugh, but his throat felt thick. The tension in the air was enough to choke a horse.  


“I, uh, forgot my clean laundry out here, so, I’m just gonna...yeah.” Dean sunk to his knees beside his hamper, hurriedly trying to pick a pair of jeans and a shirt. He could feel Castiel’s eyes on him, and he wouldn’t doubt it if he could hear his heartbeat in the silence.  


He was waiting for Cas to say something, about music, last night, hell, even the weather. _Anything_. He finally chose a pair of jeans and slid them on, his hands pausing over the zipper as he felt calloused fingertips trail up his back. Dean shivered, sucking in a breath as he felt Cas’ lips brush across his left shoulder blade.  


“There’s no rush,” Cas whispered low in Dean’s ear, fingers teasing along the hem of his jeans. Heat rushed through Dean’s veins as Cas mouthed along his neck, the occasional nipping making his eyes flutter shut. Soon, hands were rubbing around his hips and across his stomach, Cas’ textured palms sending goosebumps over Dean’s skin.

It wasn’t long before Dean was leaning back against Cas, his head tilted upwards to give Cas more access. Cas slid his hands inside of Dean’s jeans, his thumbs massaging circles into his hips and damn, if that sensation didn’t make his head spin.  


“Cas...” Dean reached for Cas’ hands, but Cas avoided him, pulling down his pants before placing them back on his hips in one fluid motion.  


“Please don’t ask me to stop again.” He ran his tongue up Dean’s neck before nipping at his earlobe, and Dean grinned.  


“I don’t want you to.”  


Dean’s breathing hitched as Cas thumbed along his already stiffening cock before palming it fully. Dean wheeled around and slammed Cas into the wall, pinning him there with his body as he attacked his lips, biting down until blood blossomed from Cas’ bottom lip. Dean pulled it into his mouth, sucking and licking it clean, before releasing it to nip at his jaw. Cas moaned under him, his hands touching, grabbing, coaxing Dean on. Dean thrusted up once, twice, making Cas’ already swollen lips alternate between moans and gasps. He could feel Cas’ erection through his pants, and so he positioned his hips to rub his own against his as he thrusted. Cas whined as he rhythmically slid up and down the wall, Dean leaning down to suck at his lower lip again, his fingers carding through Cas’ dark hair.

“How about we take these off, now?” Dean smoothed his fingers beneath the waistband of Castiel’s pants, his hot breath echoed by the other man’s panting. Cas nodded, and Dean slid both his pants and underwear down and off. Cas obliged to do the same to his underwear, and Dean quickly kicked it aside, his heart pounding in his ears.

Dean marveled at the smooth planes of Castiel’s chest, worshipped him from his sternum down to his navel with his mouth and his tongue, his hands continually massaging his hipbones. Castiel’s stomach trembled from the combined rhythms of his breathing and his heart, and Dean kissed him there, relishing in the way his named formed on his lips.

“Dean, please.”

Dean stood up and slowly rocked forward, causing their cocks to press against each other. Cas’ hand was suddenly around him, stroking and teasing, his thumb flicking over the head. Dean felt his knees weaken, his grip in Cas’ hair tightening.

“Shit, Cas...” Dean moaned, burying his face into Cas’ neck as he rocked into his hand. Dean kissed along the prominent bruises of his neck and down to the dip between his clavicles, his tongue padding in time with Cas’ strokes. Castiel hummed in response, but Dean grabbed his arm to halt his stroking. As Cas’ lips opened in protest, Dean crashed into them, his tongue gliding across the inside of Castiel’s mouth.

“Easy, baby, let me take it from here.”

Cas gasped and threw his head back as Dean grabbed both of their cocks in his hand and began stroking vigorously, the change in pace obviously welcomed as Cas’ hips started thrusting up in time with Dean’s strokes.

“Oh, Dean... _Dean_.” Castiel bit his lip, muffling whines and moans in his throat. Dean kissed at his mouth, panting hard.

“Don’t hide anything from me...let me hear you.” Dean thumbed hard and quick over Cas’ head, and Cas bucked his hips as a long moan escaped his mouth. Fingernails found purchase in Dean’s shoulders as he continued to stroke, bringing them closer and closer.

Beads of sweat slid down Dean’s forehead and collected in his eyelashes. As he tried to blink them away, he felt Castiel’s hand gently cup his cheek and wipe them away with his thumb. He was staring down at Dean, his blue eyes illuminated with something he just couldn’t place.

The situation suddenly dawned on Dean, amongst their pressed, panting bodies, swollen lips, and frantic hearts. Their heavy, hot breathing mingled together in a wordless dance around the raging fire building between them.

 

_“Love with a burning desire_

_Will set your soul on fire_

_If you take a little bit of this love of mine”_

 

Castiel clawed into his back, his hips pistoning against Dean, but Dean could only look into his eyes as he climaxed.

“ _Dean_.” The single word, the single shout from Castiel’s swollen, ruddy lips, sent Dean off the deep end, his vision exploding into white as he came across both of their chests.

Dean collapsed into Cas, the only support for their slumped, spent bodies being the wall of Dean’s living room.

“Oh, man.”

Cas laughed, the sound vibrating through his chest and into Dean. “Yeah.”

Dean craned his neck to look at him, all big smile and bright blue eyes, and his chest pulled. “Fuck me.” He pressed his mouth against Cas’, but it was short lived as the both of them continued to try to catch their breaths.

“Hmm, interesting proposition. Maybe another time? Soon?” The glint in his eye made Dean want to jump him all over again. Instead, he grinned, kissed him again, and pushed off of the wall. He looked down at himself, chuckling.

“Well, I guess that shower before was pointless.”

“Want to conserve water and go jump in again with me?” Cas offered, winking at him. Dean’s stomach bunched and flipped, something he was just going to have to get used to when being around Cas. He nodded, and Cas grabbed his hand to lead him away.

“Wait, hold on.” Dean quickly stepped to the turntable, where Pickett was still going and turned it off. “Can’t believe we left it on.”

Cas threaded his fingers through Dean’s and slowly pulled him away from the music player. “Hmm, I don’t know. I think it added a nice touch.” Dean flashed him a smile, and he swore Cas’ already pink cheeks flushed more. “Come on.”

Dean didn’t protest as he followed those sharp, swaying hips down the hall and into the bathroom.

\---

Castiel insisted, as he paraded around in nothing but a pair of Dean’s boxers (Apparently his were all dirty; Dean didn’t believe it, but what could he do besides letting the dude walk around naked?), that they blast any and all Bob Dylan records that Dean owned since he was one of Cas’ biggest inspirations.

Dean received a serious beating for having none.

“How could you not have any Bob Dylan?” Cas yelled as he chucked a pillow at Dean’s head. Dean ducked and raised his hands in defense.

“You said you looked through my collection! How did you not notice that I didn’t have any records by him?”

“I didn’t know if you had any other records stashed away!” Another pillow flew and hit Dean in the shoulder.

“Well, you stayed in my room!” Cas’ cheeks flushed and Dean smirked.

“You...noticed?”

Dean laughed, preparing a pillow missile of his own. “I mean, yeah, it’s kinda hard to miss when it smells like you all over the place.”

Cas frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He chucked another pillow (Where the hell were these all coming from? Did he even own this many pillows?) and Dean ducked, watching it nearly collide into a picture frame resting on the table beside the couch.

“Hey! Watch it!” As his pillow smashed into Cas’ face, causing him to burst out in laughter, Dean used the distraction to tackle him to the ground.

“Ouch.”

“Yeah, hardwood floors. Sorry.”

“Dumbass.”

Cas smiled up at him, the sight sending Dean’s heart into a drunk gallop. Dean smoothed some loose tufts of hair out of his face before kissing him softly. Cas hummed beneath him, his fingers tracing smooth lines up and down his back.

Suddenly, a pillow thumped across the back of Dean’s head, and Cas pushed him off. Dean stared at him as he snickered.

“You’re so weird.”

“So I’ve been told. I’m going to get some records out of my van.”

“Whoa, there!” Dean, still on the floor, grabbed at Cas’ ankle, preventing him from progressing forward. “You can’t go out there in your underwear! Uh, my underwear!”

“You shan’t stop me,” Cas resisted, pulling Dean an inch across the floor.

“Cas, are you on drugs?” Cas finally stopped, turning to smile down at him.

“No. I’m just...happy.” Dean’s face softened, and he let go of Cas’ ankle. “I’m on a happy high, I guess you’d say.”

Dean stood up and kissed his cheek. “Well, while you’re enjoying that high, let _me_ go get those records.” He stepped away, turning back to smirk at Cas. “Bob Dylan, right?”

Dean laughed at the scowl that covered Cas’ face. “I’ll throw another pillow.” Dean feigned being afraid.

“Oh no, Mr. Collins, I’m so scared!”

“Just go, jackass. And be careful!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean called behind him, approaching the front door. He opened it and stood stock still.

“Dean, hey!” He was crushed beneath a giant hug before being pushed aside by duffle bags and lanky arms. “Can I just drop my stuff here real quick? I’m dying for a beer. Got any in the fridge?”

“Uh...” Before Dean could process, Sam was already heading towards the living room, where a nearly nude Castiel awaited Dean. Hell, he could be nude by then.

“Wait, Sammy! Hold on just a second!”

“Dean...?”

Dean entered the living room and skittered to a stop, carefully looking between Cas and his brother.

“Who...?” Sam turned to Dean. “Are you...?” He turned backed to Cas, still clad in nothing but Dean’s underwear. There was a pause, and Cas looked just as confused as Sam did. Dean clapped his hands, trying too hard to laugh.

“Up for that beer now, Sammy?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment/give kudos, and thank you for reading! I will update when I can. :-)


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Writer's block sucks balls, and busy schedules make it worse. I finally got around to updating this story because I'm very excited for the plot and I just love this verse so much don't look at me
> 
> Okay, here you go. Hopefully more updates to come soon, for this fic and my others, too!

“I’m happy for you, Dean. Truly, I am.” Sam tapped the side of his beer bottle, beads of condensation collecting on his fingertips. “It’s just-”

“It’s just what, Sam? You seemed almost giddy at the prospect of me having a boyfriend when we talked at the diner, and now what? Are you gonna shove crap down my throat about blaspheming, and, and-”

“Dean, please, just listen to me. I am fine with you...being gay.”

“I never said I was gay.”

Sam sipped on his beer. “Right, well, I’m fine with whatever sexuality makes you comfortable. I’m just trying to say be careful.”

“Be careful?”

“Yes. Of course, be careful.” Sam pointed toward the window. “Out there? They hate guys like you. They hate anything outside their twisted thinking of what’s normal. Dean, I’ve seen what they do to men they hate. The violence, the blood, the...cruelty and merciless of it all. I don’t want that for you, Dean.”

“I realize that, Sam. I’ve already talked to Cas about being careful.”

Sam nodded and watched Cas stroll into the kitchen, dressed at the request of Dean. Dean beamed as he stepped to stand beside him, and Sam hid a smile. “Good. I’m glad.”

“So, I’m your boyfriend now?” Dean sputtered as Cas and Sam stared him down, and he cleared his throat before sipping at his beer.

“You gonna answer him?” Dean took Sam’s chuckle as a challenge, so he quickly turned towards Cas and kissed him hard. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas’ waist, closing the space between them, as he worked his tongue into Cas’ mouth. He trailed his tongue down Cas’ jawline and sucked at his neck, generating a small moan from him. Sam fumbled with his beer bottle, nearly sending it crashing to the floor as Dean hoisted Cas up onto the kitchen counter and continued the display.

“If that’s okay with you?” Dean asked between kisses.

“Hell yeah.”

“Oh-okay, guys. Guys...that’s...okay.” Sam rushed out of the kitchen, making a break for the living room. Thundering steps sounded behind him, and he quickly sympathized with a lion’s prey as his older brother tackled him from behind, sending them toppling over the couch.

Cas watched the bout of wrestling in amusement, his teeth sinking into a crisp apple before providing commentary.

“Considering that your brother is a giant, Dean, I don’t think you have much of a chance.” Dean paused, his arms wrapped around Sam’s chest as Sam struggled against the hold, hooking his own leg around Dean’s.

“I didn’t have a problem pinning you against the wall earlier.”

“Ah, my ears!” Sam protested, rolling over and pinning Dean down with his elbow as he attempted to hold back his brother’s persistent hands. They continued to thrash about, deep laughter sputtering from their lips. Cas occasionally pushed each of them with his foot, earning phrases like “cheater” and “you’re supposed to be on my side, jackass,” until finally, Cas jumped on top of them, creating a tangled mess of limbs and new bruises.

“Damn it, Cas!”

“I think you busted my shoulder, Jesus...”

“Son of a bitch, you should ha-...whoa, whoa, whoa.”

All struggling stopped and both Cas and Sam popped their heads up, simultaneously asking “What?”

“Sammy, where did you get _this_?” Dean lifted Sam’s shirt fractionally, just enough to reveal a tattoo on his right hipbone, which he quickly tried to hide.

“Dude, lay off.”

“No, seriously, let me look at it.”

“No!”

“Sam.”

Sam tried to get up off the floor, but Cas simply rolled over and pinned him down. Dean chuckled and reached for the hem of his shirt when Cas stopped him.

“Allow me.”

Cas inspected the tattoo; it was relatively small in scale, the peace sign laid out on his skin in a simple shade of black. Twisting vines decorated the outer circle and down around the middle, vertical line. Cas continued to stare at it until Dean began cackling. He fell back down onto the floor, his arm folding over his eyes as his laughter echoed inside the small living room.

“Are you done?” Sam asked, avoiding looking at Cas, who was now staring him down.

“I just...” Dean took a deep breath, turning to look at his brother. “So, you _are_ a hippie.”

Sam blushed and chose an interesting spot on the ceiling to look at. “I wouldn’t call myself that, exactly.”

“Wait, wait, but this is...weird.”

“What’s weird? You have tattoos. Your friends have tattoos.”

“That is true,” Cas chimed in. Dean sat up, shaking his head.

“No, no, I didn’t mean that. I meant that...well, Sammy, you’re going to school for law, right? An outstanding citizen of the United States, yeah?”

“Yes, bu-”

“And this is the symbol, you know, the symbol for the protesters. The revolutionaries, or whatever. They are against the law, so...

“What side am I on?” Sam finished, rubbing his shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Well, revolutionaries aren’t against all law. They aren’t anarchist, albeit, some of them are close,” Cas added, his eyes occasionally resting on Sam’s hip. “It’s possible for your brother to agree with some aspects of the law, and disagree with others.”

“Thank you...Cas.”

Cas nodded, but Dean shifted, shaking his head.

“Okay, but, I’m on to something here. I know I am. Sammy isn’t...passionate, I guess you’d say, about all of this peace and love stuff. So there has to be something else.” Dean paused, watching his brother fidget with his shirt. Dean’s face broke with a smile, and he clapped, shouting as he stood up. “Ha! I knew it!”

“No, no, no, not necessarily. Maybe he has friends that he cares for that are protesters, and, and this is his show of support!” Cas turned to look at Sam. “Right?”

Dean narrowed his eyes, glancing between the two of them. “You guys know something that you aren’t sharing with the class. Sam wouldn’t just get inked for a friend. Spill.”

Sam kept his eyes on Cas. “Maybe you should ask your boyfriend, because it seems he already knows without me telling him anything.”

Cas shuffled his feet and cleared his throat, attempting to put on a straight face. “I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

“Cas, I know you’re lyin’, man. Come on.”

Cas bit his lip, and Dean’s stomach flipped. He’d have to bruise those lips later.

“Um. Well, Dean, do you remember when we came here after the bar last night and we, uh, talked about my family?”

“Yeah, why?”

Sam’s head snapped up, his face shrouded in disbelief. “You gotta be kidding me.”

“What?” Dean asked, feeling completely out of the loop.

Sam rubbed his face and a chuckle escaped his lips. “Small world.”

“ _What_?” Dean’s fingers twitched at his sides and Sam once again cleared his throat. A moment of silence passed.

“Your brother knows my brother, Gabriel.”

Dean took a moment to piece everything together. “Ah.”

Sam stared at him, his cheeks tinted. “Ah? What’s ah?” Dean grinned down at him, crossing his arms.

“You sly devil. Gabriel’s a hippie, and you got inked for him. That’s sweet.”

“Shut up.”

“No, no. Now that this is out in the open, let’s talk about it. I asked you at the diner if you had the gay crush, and you said _you_ were the one getting your tail chased.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

Cas sighed. “Did my brother seduce you?”

“What? No!” Sam fidgeted with his shirt again, looking unmistakably ashamed. “I mean...what, does he do that often?”

Cas sat down on the couch, twisting the stem of his apple. “He’s...eccentric. He certainly likes to live in the moment, and he’s certainly had his share of...lovers.”

“Better watch out, Sammy. Someone may steal your man.” Sam punched a still grinning Dean in the thigh. “I just didn’t know, man.”

“Know what?”

“Not that there's anything wrong with it, obviously. But that you...swung that way.”

Sam blushed deeper than before, swallowing. “Neither did I.”

“Dude, you have to tell me what happened.”

“What, and then we’ll talk about boys and give each other makeovers?”

That had Cas chuckling, but Dean persisted. “I just want to know...what goes on in my little brother’s life, that’s all.”

“Nope.”

“Come on! Well, hey, Cas, how did you know that Sam knew Gabriel?”

Cas smirked. “That tattoo,” he said, gesturing towards Sam’s hip, “is the same one my brother has.”

“What?”

“Yeah, except, he has it on his left hip.”

“You guys have _matching_ tattoos? Oh man...” Dean continued to laugh, but Cas pushed him.

“Don’t make fun of your little brother. He’s not the one who fell for a traveling musician only after talking to him for thirty minutes.”

Dean blushed, and Sam laughed at him, finally getting up off the floor. “And always listened for him on the radio. Now who sounds sappy?”

“Shut up.” Dean walked into the kitchen to pick up his beer bottle, sipping at it as he thought. He heard Sam shuffling his feet in the living room and the familiar squeak of the couch.

“So, how is he?”

“Gabriel? He’s fine. He can get a bit wild, but...he’s passionate about what he believes in.”

“That sounds like him. Has he mentioned me at all to you?”

“He told me that he had a musician brother that...he doesn’t get to see a lot. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but looking back...I think he misses you, Cas.”

Dean heard Cas sigh, and he fidgeted with his beer bottle. He stared at the cabinets, clucking his tongue against his cheek.

“You want Gabriel to come up here with us for a few days?”

“No.” When Dean turned around, Cas had his hands up. “It’s not that I don’t want to see my brother. I do, I love him. I just...he doesn’t know I’m in Junction City...or in the state of Kansas.”

“Why didn’t you tell him you were close by?” Sam asked.

“Well, I’m not on tour right now. Actually, I don’t know when my next tour will even be. My life is uncertain, and I don’t want him to think that I failed or...only came to visit him because I needed something.”

Sam laid his hand on Cas’ shoulder, giving him a soft smile. “He’s your brother. And from what I remember, when he spoke about you, even if it was just for a second, he seemed proud. You shouldn’t be afraid to see him.” Sam turned to give Dean a meaningful look, and Dean gave him a small smile.

“I suppose so...”

“Hey, Dean, why don’t we go to Kansas City for a few days? You can see where I’m living, and the college, and Cas can see Gabe.”

Dean contemplated the idea, draining the last of his beer and setting the bottle onto the counter. “I can’t just leave Bobby like that. I’m the most reliable employee he has.” Sam snorted, but Dean puffed out his chest. “What? I am. I’m indispensable.”

“Couldn’t he give you a few days since you work so much?” Cas asked, his face in between hopeful and nervous. “Then you could maybe pick up some extra shifts when we get back?”

Dean smiled at Cas, reassuring him. “Only one way to find out.” He stepped out into the living room to pick up the phone, dialing in the number to the diner as he heard Sam and Cas begin talking about monkeys and music, when Bobby finally picked up the phone.

“Busy day?”

“Actually, no,” Bobby huffed, and Dean could hear the faint clanking of dishes in the background. “You would have had easy hours today, boy. Having a nice day with Cas?”

“How di-...nevermind. Yeah, it’s been nice. Sammy came over for a visit.”

“Oh, did he? How’s he?”

“He seems to be doin’ good, Bobby. Hey, listen...I was wondering if I could get some vacation time.”

“Vacation time for what?”

“Well, Sam wants me to go with him to Kansas City to tour his place and the college, and I thought it’d be nice to spend time with him since he’s usually so busy.”

There was a pause on the other end, and Dean tried to drown out his brother and his boyfriend still blabbing about monkeys and believing in something.

“I think that’d be good for the both of you, Dean. You wantin’ the next few days off?”

Dean smiled. “Yeah, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

“Nah. Garth has been asking for more shifts, so I’ll load them onto him.”

“Thanks a lot, Bobby.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t go gettin’ into too much trouble, yeah?”

“Yes sir.”

They said their goodbyes, and Dean turned around to tell Sam and Cas of the news, but they were standing at the shelves of records that Dean kept by his turntable, shuffling through the stacks of vinyl.

“Guys. What are you looking for?”

“Do you have the new Monkees single yet?” Sam asked, looking at records next to the turntable.

“The what? No, I don’t own any recordings of animals.”

“Hilarious. But seriously...you’ve never listened to them?”

Dean shrugged. “No.”

Cas and Sam stared at him, and he frowned.

“What?”

“Dean.” Cas shook his head.

“ _What_?”

“I’m getting it from my van.”

Dean watched as Cas scurried out of the apartment, and Sam chuckled, patting him on the back.

“He’s a keeper.”

Dean pushed him jokingly, but his heart fluttered around in his rib cage. He wasn’t sure if it was foolish of him to hope so.

After Dean told them that he cleared the trip with Bobby, Cas put on the record. Suddenly the conversation before made sense when Dean heard “I’m A Believer” blast through the speakers. He watched as Cas danced enthusiastically, attempting to get Sam to dance, too. Sam moved a little before he escaped to the kitchen to grab some more beers. Cas quickly grabbed Dean’s hands and lead him in stepping and swaying across the floor, singing the lyrics into Dean’s ear that made him weak at knees.

Yeah, Cas was a keeper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments/give kudos if you enjoyed! Thanks for reading. ^^
> 
> "I'm A Believer" by The Monkees: http://youtu.be/LV9VhplCimQ


	7. Chapter 6

Dean gripped at Castiel’s waist, holding him close for soft, delicate kisses. Castiel grinned into his lips, eagerly wrapping his arms around Dean.

“At this rate, we’ll never get done packing.”

Dean shrugged, rubbing his knuckles up and down Cas’ sides. “Sammy’s learned patience over the years.”

Cas laughed when Dean began to nuzzle at his neck, his hand sliding up Dean’s neck to finger through his hair. “We’ve been holding him up for at least thirty minutes or more. He’s probably already on his way to Kansas City by now.”

“Guys, I’m going to steal all of your beer and hit the road if you two don’t stop making out in there and finish packing,” Sam called from the living room.

Dean sighed as Cas moved away from him, heading for his bedroom door.

“Hey, wait a minute. You’re not going to help me?” Dean gave up his best puppy dog look, and he internally grinned at the way Cas melted into his doorframe.

“Sorry, babe, but I have maybe a couple of articles of clothing in your apartment total. The rest is in my van, so I don’t need to pack. I’ve only been a distraction.”

Dean grunted, turning away from him to pick out underwear from the laundry basket on his bed and stuff them into his suitcase. “Fine, if you’re going to be a flake, go get friendly with Sam while I finish.”

“I don’t see the point in packing all those pairs of underwear when I’ll have you out of them most of the time.”

Dean froze, hearing Cas chuckle and slip away down the hall. Heat buzzed under his skin, and damn it, Cas was distracting when he wasn’t even in the room. Dean quickly sorted through his suitcase to make sure he had the essentials, snapped it shut, and walked out of his room. He closed the door behind him, remembering to check that all the lights were off in the apartment before striding into the living room.

“Alright, are we ready to burn some rubber, or what?” Dean stopped mid-stride, glancing around the room, only to find it empty. “Uh, guys?” When he received no reply, his shoulders sagged, his grin replaced with an unamused frown. “So, they eloped without me. That’s not what I meant by getting friendly with my brother, Cas.”

Suitcase in hand, Dean walked out his apartment door and locked it, before going down a flight of stairs to reach the parking lot. He saw Castiel’s van, a Volkswagen Type 2 coated in blue and white paint, with his boyfriends ass hanging out the passenger’s seat door. He grinned and stepped up directly behind Cas, grabbing his ass. Cas yelped and jumped up, his head thunking against the van’s roof.

Dean’s mouth formed an “o” as he grabbed for Cas, wrapping his arms around him and rubbing his head.

“I’m so sorry, Cas,” he managed to say between laughing. Cas grumbled into his chest, but wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist all the same. Dean heard Sam rummaging around in the back of the van, and so he pushed Cas forward against the passenger’s seat to get a better look.

“Ah, so it’s a Kombi?” He commented, noticing the open space behind the front seats. Sam’s hunched over form was settling his duffle bags along the edge of the interior. Cas smiled up at him.

“Yeah, she’s my baby. Plenty of room to store my things, and...” Cas grinded up against Dean’s hips, and Dean’s grip on him tightened. He lifted his head and planted soft kisses to Dean’s neck, his smile warm against his skin. “There’s a mattress back there.”

Dean looked down at him, a grin tugging at the edges of his mouth. “Then we’ll have to put it to good use.”

“Still here, guys. Thanks.”

Both Dean and Cas fell into a fit of laughter as Sam pouted in the back of the van, resembling a big puppy stuck in a small doggy door.

“Just hand me your damn suitcase.”

Dean did, climbing into the van after it to inspect the inside. As Cas said, there was a mattress there, covered in light sheets and a red blanket, with several pillows scattered across it. There were crates of vinyl strapped against the sides, which were covered in various posters of music artists and venues from Cas’ tours. Dean spotted his guitar resting in its case, laying flat next to the mattress, and he tried to suppress a smile.

Various other items laid scattered around the back of the van, such as clothes and essentials, and a deep burning sensation bubbled deep in Dean’s chest. He didn’t know what it was, but he pushed it aside.

“It’s nice.”

“One of the best ways to live,” Cas answered, climbing into the vehicle and shutting the door behind him. He climbed into the back with Sam and Dean and plopped down onto the mattress. “It’s technically called a bus, but when I tell people I live in a bus, they automatically assume that I live with a group in a large vehicle, when that’s not the case. So I call it my van. Van, bus...relatively the same, right?”

Sam chuckled, his fingers dragging across the carpeted floor. “I’m guessing you get interesting propositions from the people who think you live in a group.”

Cas’ eyes widened slightly, his smile small and nearly shy. “Yeah. Definitely.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, his curiosity tapped. “What kinds of things?”

Cas shifted on the mattress, the blanket bunching under his legs. “Orgies. Mostly.”

Dean felt his cheeks burn, and he cleared his throat. “Ah. Well...did you?”

Cas’ head shot up. “Did I what?”

“Accept any offers?”

“That’s not really any of your business, Dean,” Sam interjected, his own face reddening.

“I’m only curious, Sam. It’s not like I’m asking if he-”

“Yes.”

A silence filled the van, and both Sam and Dean stared at him. He squirmed under their gaze, grabbing a pillow and hitting them in turn. “Don’t look at me like that. It was a very liberating experience.”

Dean huffed a laugh, glancing at Sam. “Well, I think that’s a bit too wild for the Winchesters. Right, Sammy?”

There was no reply.

“Sammy?”

Sam seemed to shrink under Dean’s gaze, his back sliding down the side of the car. He looked out one of the windows.

“Don’t play at being distracted, Sam.”

Sam finally turned his head, glancing at Cas for a quick second before he met Dean’s slowly changing face.

“Uh...Gabriel is very persuasive.”

Dean swallowed, then nodded, suddenly feeling out of the loop.

“Please don’t be...mad, or whatever...”

Dean sat up and grabbed Sam’s knee. “Sam. I’m not angry. Not even in the slightest. I’m learning new things about you rather quickly, but they’re your choices. If you want to experience orgies, who am I to stop you, or make you feel guilty? Do what makes you happy, alright?”

Sam relaxed, the tension seeming to flow off his body and into the floor of the van. “Thanks, Dean.” A smile broke onto his face, and he pointedly stared at Dean, making him let go of his knee.

“What?”

“Still too wild of a notion for you?”

Dean smiled, the burn returning to his cheeks. He could see Cas grinning out of his peripheral, but ignored him. Eventually, he shrugged, his fingers tapping against his folded legs.

“Who knows? Maybe it’s in the cards.” Dean reached for a the cooler tucked behind the passenger’s seat and took out a cola, popping the top to sip at it. “Now, are we gonna talk about orgies all day in the back of Cas’ van, or are we gonna hit the road?”

“Yup!” Cas slapped Sam’s shoulder, grinning at him. “Wanna drive?”

“You’d let me drive your bus? Van? Whatever...”

“Uh, yeah? It’s not that big of a deal.”

Sam smiled at him before looking to Dean. “Dean would never let me drive _his_ car.”

“Hey, I have let you drive that hunk of junk. What I won’t let you do is drive my new car. Whenever I get it.”

“Uh huh. Well, who wants to be my copilot?”

Dean contemplated it, wondering if he’d rather curl up in Cas’ sheets, but Cas beat him to it. “Let your brother ride up front. I’ve got to practice a song on my guitar for a little bit. Then we can tune into the radio.”

Sam nodded and his lanky form awkwardly maneuvered inside the van until he was sitting in the driver’s seat. Dean popped the lid of the cooler and handed him a coke before climbing into the passenger’s seat.

“You sure you’ll be safe back there? The highway can be a bitch.” Dean turned around to look at Cas as he pulled out his guitar before settling on his mattress.

“Dean, I’ll be fine. If I go out, at least I’ll go out with the things I care most about.”

Dean sensed something deeper nestled behind Cas’ carefree smile, but Dean shrugged before nodding in agreement.

Sam pulled out of the neighborhood and then they were on there way. Conversation soon filled the air, passing the time as Cas strummed quietly on his guitar.

“Dude, Jimi Hendrix.”

“No, Sam, The Rolling Stones.”

“They’re not even in the same genre of music!”

“Yes, they are. It’s called blues rock. It started with bands like the Stones. Hendrix’s style is just a heavier version.”

“I like the Stones, Dean, but-”

“And I like Hendrix. You kidding me? He’s a god. I’m just...more attached to the Stones.”

“So why can’t you leave it at that, and let me be more attached to Hendrix?”

“Because you haven’t even really experienced the Stones, Sam! I’m disappointed in you!”

“You didn’t even listen to the Monkees before today. Talk about disappointment.”

“That was rather disheartening, Dean,” Cas chimed in, tuning one of the strings on his guitar. Dean turned around in his seat, pointing a finger at his boyfriend.

“You stay out of this. This isn’t your battle.”

Cas shrugged, hiding his smile by bending his head down. Dean didn’t turn back in his seat, staying as he was so that he could look between Cas and Sam easily.

“Okay, Sam. Beatles?”

“Oh, the Beatles are great.”

Dean nodded. “Good.”

“But Gabriel would disagree.”

“What?”

“If I remember correctly, he said that people were starting to be like them instead of themselves, so he rarely listens to their music,” Cas explained.

“I told you to stay out of it. Especially since you’re related to that...that nazi.”

Sam glanced at him. “Dean, that doesn’t even make sense.”

“Shut up.”

“How about Peter, Paul, and Mary?” Cas asked, not looking up from his guitar. Dean looked over at him, a small smile turning up on his lips.

“I love them.”

Cas stared at Dean, his cheeks turning a rosy shade of pink. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

Sam glanced at their exchange, his fingers rolling across the steering wheel. “I think they’re great, too...”

“Well, that’s a good thing, because, you must know, Sam,” Cas started, strumming the strings carefully. “That ‘Lemon Tree’ is one of Gabriel’s favorite songs.”

Sam sat up straighter in his seat. “Really? He never told me that.”

“That’s what I’m practicing now. He told you he plays guitar, yes?”

“Yeah, he did. He, uh...played some for me before.”

“Aww.”

Sam pushed Dean’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“He and I used to play songs together. You know, just for fun. I, uh,” Cas laughed, the strings of his guitar humming. “I actually brought up the idea of us being a band. Just the two of us. But he had other plans, and I was eager to get on the road, so it never happened.”

“Why don’t you try again, Cas?” Sam asked, speaking over his shoulder. “He seemed to miss music pretty badly, but he only played for me and in his own time because he didn’t want to be known as a musician. Maybe he’s waiting on you to come back.”

Cas considered that for a quiet moment, the song he was playing sending Dean into a sea of ease.

“Maybe so.”

“Only one way to find out, huh, Cas?” Dean smiled at him, big and bright, and Cas smiled back, nodding as he played his guitar louder. When he began to sing, Dean rested his head on the back of the seat and watched him. His heart beat light in his chest, his stomach full of butterflies. He didn’t notice when Sam looked to him, an amused smile playing at his lips. Dean could feel himself slip into Cas’ deep, soothing voice, and could feel his heart pull even stronger.

When he began to hum along with Cas’ second go at the song, Cas smiled, encouraging him to sing. Dean blushed and shook his head, slinking back into the seat. Cas’ chuckle rolled over a few lyrics, but he continued, keeping Dean’s eye contact as he practiced.

After a while, Cas insisted that they turn on the radio before they got tired of hearing “Lemon Tree” repeatedly and kicked him out of his own van. Sam promptly turned it on, letting the music swim through the speakers. Cas pecked Dean’s neck before grabbing a coke, settling down on the floor to scribble in a notebook of some kind. Dean watched him curiously before Sam interrupted his thoughts.

“So, my university is in Lawrence, but I know you guys want to get to the city. We can stop for a little while and then leave, or we could do it on the way back from our weekend...getaway.”

“Yeah, it’s getting towards late afternoon. Why don’t we go ahead and get to Kansas City? Cas, that good with you?”

“Yeah, sounds good,” he answered absentmindedly, keeping his eyes on his notebook. Dean stared at him for a moment longer before turning to the windshield.

“How much longer we got, Sammy?”

“Uh, about forty-five minutes, maybe?”

“Good. You got about forty-five minutes to think of how you’re going to introduce me to Gabriel.”

Sam was tense the remainder of the drive.

\---

“Wow.”

Dean had seen newspaper articles and certain news shows talking about the hippie groups. Of course, most of them were biased sons-of-bitches, but Dean had always wondered exactly what he’d expect if he ever ran into a group.

It certainly wasn’t this.

“What? Surprised?” Sam nudged his elbow into Dean’s side, shaking him from his thoughts.

“What? Yeah, a bit. It just seems so...”

“Peaceful?” Cas grinned at him as he began to walk backwards in front of them. Dean nodded. Cas gestured to the flat, grassy area filled with young men and women, parked buses, vans, and cars, most of them decorated with colorful paints, and scattered tents. “That’s the point.” 

Dean noticed several smaller groups sitting around in circles, many of the members playing instruments or singing. Others were relaxing in the grass, talking or eating. Some were alone, busy with reading or writing. Dean also couldn’t help but notice the amount of couples kissing or laying with each other, or partaking in other activities.

“I suppose privacy doesn’t really exist here?” He asked, warmth spreading up his back.

“One of the main paradigms given by our community is that of free love. We shouldn’t be ashamed of love, and neither should you.”

Dean turned around to the source of the voice and faced a smaller man with brown hair and hazel eyes. He stood there, his mouth in a seamless smirk. His loose, dark green shirt flowed over his bellbottom jeans, and his bangs were held back by a yellow strip of cloth. Dean frowned at him, crossing his arms.

“Oh yeah? What’s with you telling me what to do? I thought part of this movement dealt with finding and following your own authority.”

The man raised his eyebrows and tilted his head towards Dean. “See? You’re a fast learner.” The man’s eyes shifted from Dean to Cas, and his face softened. “Hey, bro.”

Cas moved from beside Dean and embraced the man, patting him on the back. “It’s good to see you, Gabriel.”

“So, what brings you to my part of town? And with my boyfriend and this dreamboat here?”

Dean’s eyebrows rose, ignoring Sam as he chuckled beside him. Cas turned to look at them, gesturing with his hand.

“Gabriel, this dreamboat is my boyfriend, Dean. He’s Sam’s brother.”

“Ah. What a small world.”

“That’s exactly what I said,” Sam commented, walking slowly up to Gabriel. His shoulders slunk down as he timidly kissed Gabriel on the cheek. “I’ve missed you.”

Gabriel fisted Sam’s hair and pulled him down into a long kiss, and Dean shuffled his feet as he decidedly looked away. When they parted, Sam’s lips were ruddy and his breath was slightly labored. Gabriel smiled up at him.

“I’m glad you’re back, kiddo. Come on.” Gabriel slipped his arm around Cas and walked forward, slapping Dean’s ass as he went. “Better get used to seeing the previews before walking right into the big show, pretty boy.”

Dean’s mouth parted, but no words came. He heard Cas suppress a laugh, but Sam full out snorted next to him. Dean pushed him, but his brother pushed back, urging him forward.

“Couldn’t have made a better introduction than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Lemon Tree" by Peter, Paul, and Mary: http://youtu.be/RGtx1gYOxYI
> 
> After going years without working on this fic, I've decided to end it here. Adventures await these boys, and you're more than welcome to imagine all the happy endings you could think of. I really enjoyed writing this fic, and I can only hope you've enjoyed reading it~
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
